


The Wind

by GamblingDementor



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, idek what this is sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 16:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/pseuds/GamblingDementor
Summary: Shiz era, Glinda and Elphaba sharing an intimate moment in the dark of the night. Set during the short time period before the Emerald City.





	The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> idk it's been a while since I've read the book so this may not be 1000% canon accurate. It kind of takes for granted that Elphaba already knew that shit might go down. Also I'm sorry if this has top!Elphaba okay it's just a fic I'm doing my best. I don't know what this is. It just came out.

Glinda's hands are silk and velvet against Elphaba's skin, her plump pretty lips a caress on Elphaba's thin dry green ones and even in bed, she adorns herself with her froufrous, though now long gone, and her attar of roses almost too strong and straight to Elphaba's head. Even in the mourning of her beloved Ama, there is a smile to her whenever they slip underneath the same sheets, a smile that Elphaba cannot reciprocate. _My dear sweet Glinda_ , she thinks. _She doesn't know. Not really._ In the adjacent room, Nessa and Nanny have gone to bed long ago.

 

"Oh, Elphie," Glinda moans when Elphaba's fingers slip between her legs and those lips as well are just as plump and pink and pretty. Her perfect hands clasp Elphaba's shoulders like a proper damsel, her delicious soft legs tangled with her own bony ones. She is a vice of delicate plumpness around Elphaba's skinny boyish form and Elphaba could just drown in it.

 

"Quiet, my sweet," she whispers against her ear and curls up her fingers inside − Glinda bucks up her hips into the touch, but holds her tongue as asked, instead choosing to assault Elphaba's neck with as many kisses.

 

Ama Clutch, the dear late crone, slept like a hibernating bear but Nanny, Nanny has always been vigilant and clever, and Nessa has a rest as delicate as any other thing Nessa does. Silence is of the essence while they have each other, because who knows for how long that might be? As of recent, Elphaba fears her time in Shiz may be counted, but when she find herself in Glinda's arms, she forgets even for a moment everything about Grommetik and the Wizard and the Animals and the rest of it. She cannot lose Glinda like that, by impropriety rather than self-inflicted distance, she will not, and so they keep their secrets in the dark night when Crage Hall relents to slumber. It will have to end some day, she thinks, she _knows_. If it comes to that. If it ever comes to that. She takes Glinda's kisses and her precious forgotten virtue and tries not to think about the day she'll miss it all. In a way, she already does.

 

In the mean time, she takes what Glinda so readily gives. Elphaba couldn't have believed it if one had told her upon arrival at Shiz that one day Miss Galinda Arduenna Upland would tumble into her bed and share with her what no Ama would surely allow. As for Nanny, who always had a whole different set of values and sayings than any other elder, well, Elphaba would much rather not find out what she thinks of this. It is likely that no one will ever know the lusty night trysts of the Misses Glinda and Elphaba. Or is it their teary romance? Their names are those of Saints past, yet what did they make of that? Elphaba supposes that unnatural affections must be another stain on her soul − if she has one. And the daughter of a priest, too, who preached the Unnamed God to the lost masses a lifetime ago. Where that led her… As for herself, she is condemned already if word gets out. Glinda might get away with telling the tale of how her twisted green roomie, that snake, duped her into the unthinkable.

 

Glinda's lips close around some beating vein at Elphaba's neck, sucking the skin and kissing it, her mouth soon trailing down a path of caresses that are too sweet for this world, for Elphaba. She presses her face into her pillow as those lips curl around a nipple and the way she arches into Glinda unwittingly, the semblance of a pretty curve to her stick of a body, she could almost look like a woman.

 

"Elphie," Glinda whispers madly, her breath hot against Elphaba's skin. Her fingers close around her narrow hips, digging into her sides, a gesture well rehearsed. "Elphie…"

 

Elphaba rolls off her and Glinda follows the motion, straddling Elphaba's lap. The covers they were buried under bunch down around her thighs, leaving her chest uncovered. What a spectacle she'd be for any onlooker, but her beauty is for no eyes but her Elphaba's, the pudgy softness of her hips, the heaviness of her breasts finally unconstricted, the thirst unveiled in her gaze. _You're beautiful_ , Elphaba thinks for the thousandth time. Maybe if she doesn't say it, it's going to hurt less.

 

A hand at her breast for her own gratification, the other grabbing Elphaba's and demanding she resumes what she'd so eagerly started, Glinda sits Elphaba's fingers like a queen her throne, a natural born leader. And to think people believe her meek or weak… When she looks up at Glinda bouncing prettily on her fingers, grabbing the pleasure from her, riding her like…

 

"Nanny, did you leave the window open?"

 

Glinda's voluptuous quiet sighs are cut short by Nessarose's clear voice in the night and as promptly as it came, her delicious confidence is gone. Dropping back against Elphaba, she hides the both of them under the covers and nestles her warm face into Elphaba's neck, wrapping her arms tight around her for fear of whatever might come.

 

"What's that, dearie?"

 

Elphaba wonders if she has ever been so alert. Glinda ought to be in her own bed if anyone was to enter the room, but then the idea of a very naked Glinda making her way back across… Glinda seems in no hurry to leave the safety of Elphaba's arms either. Elphaba takes her hands, pressing silent kisses on her palms. _You old crone_ , she thinks, _is tonight the night you'll decide to turn your back on me?_ Even in her own thoughts, Elphaba can't stand to think too ill of her Nanny. Even Nessarose keeps her tone down and proper when addressing the dear old lady.

 

"Oh, you never hear anything, do you?" She says with a touch of fondness. "The _window_. I heard the wind, you must have left the window open in Elphaba's room."

 

Nessarose's voice may be pristine and barely above a whisper, or not even, but Nanny has no such qualms in her reply.

 

"My little sweetling thinks Nanny can't hear," she says loudly, and Elphaba suspects not just to Nessa, "but Nanny hears it. Nanny hears _everything_."

 

Glinda's pulse is racing under her soft skin and she nestles closer into Elphaba, completely hidden under the covers and just in time. Elphaba shuts her eyes close as soon as the door to Nanny's side room opens but she would know that footstep among thousands regardless.

 

"Windows closed, windows closed," the old lady mutters, making her way across the dimness of the room. "The little flower doesn't want any noise at all, now, does she? Best not make any for her sake." She pauses, fretting with the already closed window, rattling the pane a little bit. "That's it, then. No more wind."

 

She makes her slow way back to the adjacent room. Glinda's face hasn't left the crook of Elphaba's neck, her pulse racing, fingers grasping her so tight Elphaba fears she may leave marks on her arms. Cautiously, silently, she presses a kiss into Glinda's hair and stays there, inhaling her. At the doorstep, Nanny doesn't seem to be in any hurry to go back to bed and accidentally, imprudently, Elphaba opens an angry eye to check whatever could be the delay through a sliver of the covers. Her blood chills like the lizard she might be when she finds the staring eyes of the old minder straight on her, on the bump in her bed that must surely be too round, too full for her stick of a body. She says nothing, of course, for the sake of her Glinda curled up into her who fears for their lives, but refuses to be the one who yields to shame. Her fingers stroke Glinda's skin gently, trying to soothe her, and her resilience, or maybe stubbornness, makes Nanny go on her merry way.

 

"Everything is alright," she says, her voice clear through the closed door. "It's all fine, dearie. Nanny is there for you."

 

There is fussing, most likely Nanny rearranging Nessarose, making sure she's comfortable, and then footsteps, and then silence. It's a cleaner silence than before, neater, more dangerous to stain. It takes Glinda a full long while to even stir again and when she does, Elphaba presses a finger on her lips to keep her silent. Glinda nods. Every gesture, every motion feels like a risk and naturally, they're risks that Glinda will not take. Tucking herself comfortably into Elphaba, she gives her one last kiss, an apology for their interruption, maybe, or something else entirely, and closes her eyes. It's not long before her breathing quiets down but Elphaba is used to waiting the hours of the night to pass.

 

She will be up before dawn, before Nanny, and Glinda knows it. Elphaba will be there to fetch the forgotten nightgown from under the bed, to smooth any wrinkles and let Glinda pretend to have spent the night in her own lovely little bed. She'll be there, the toughness to Glinda's softness, there to provide and protect even her virtue in the darkest of time. And who cares if Nessarose's interruption could not be recovered from tonight? For the present, Elphaba still has Glinda in her arms and there will be other times, and other nights. Until there won't.

 


End file.
